by Ann Charles
He pulled my keys from his pants pocket and tossed them to me.
After I used the remote to lock the doors, I pocketed the keys and returned to the sitting area, hesitating at the edge of the coffee table.
He patted the couch cushion next to him. “I promise not to bite.”
I thought of the many times Prudence had used someone else to hurt me while I was in this house and opted for the leather chair next to the couch.
“Chicken,” he said with a teasing glint in his dark eyes.
“I still think you should have waited in the car.”
“Nope.”
“I doubt anything much is going to happen. Prudence probably just wants to boss me around a little and chew my ass about how bad I’m doing at my job.” I looked around the room, figuring she was eavesdropping. “Isn’t that right, Prudence?”
Doc and I waited, listening.
Nothing happened.
I smirked. She was probably being purposely quiet now to make me look even more incompetent.
“As I told you on the way here, Killer, for the next two days I’m not leaving your side.”
I laced my fingers together in my lap, happy to hog his attention for so long. “Like Cooper said as we were leaving the taxidermy shop, you’re going to get tired of me.”
“Coop’s just jealous I’m not doting on him. He’s a needy guy when he’s not barking orders at the other cops.”
I laughed.
“That’s better.” He patted the seat cushion again. “Now come sit by me.”
“Not a chance in Hell, Candy Cane.” I glanced around the room. “Have you picked up any signs of Prudence’s presence yet?”
Doc inhaled slowly, his gaze raking the room. “She’s here. I can smell her rose-water scent.” His focus returned to me, and then he closed his eyes and took another deep breath. After a moment, he opened his eyes. “She’s holding back for some reason. I can sense her energy, but just barely.”
“Here we are.” Zelda sailed into the room holding a silver serving tray with plates on it along with cups of a steaming, amber liquid and a small mountain of cloth napkins. She lowered the tray onto the coffee table and sat down at the other end of the couch from Doc. Her apron was missing, but the dusting of what was most likely flour still remained on her cheek.
A prickle of unease rippled down my spine, followed by a tightening of my shoulders. Something told me Prudence was about to deliver a blow, but I wasn’t sure if I should duck or weave first.
I stared down at the serving tray. There were three cups but four plates. And why so many napkins? Was this about the mess I’d made with the honeybuns? Because that wasn’t my fault.
“Is Zeke joining us today?” I pointed at the fourth plate.
“No. He’s out of town this weekend, surveying some land over in Wyoming for one of the companies he contracts with fairly often.”
So, no Zeke. Maybe the fourth plate was an extra in case Doc wanted seconds. Usually Harvey was with me when I stopped by to put up with Prudence’s bullying, and nine times out of ten he was ready for seconds before he’d even finished the first round of whatever lip-smacking dish Zelda offered. The dirty bird was going to be bummed he’d missed out on today’s treat.
Zelda handed Doc a cloth napkin and a spoon. Me? All I got from her was a pained smile. “I’m so sorry for calling at such an ungodly hour this morning, Violet, but Prudence insisted. She’d been pacing the attic all night and woke me quite early, insisting that I call you immediately. I told her we should wait, but she could not be deterred.”
And I’d made her wait longer yet. Oh, boy. Patience was not one of Prudence’s character strengths.
I scanned the room, returning to Doc as he draped the napkin over one of his thighs. His movements were smooth, normal. When he looked my way, his dark brown irises were still front and center—no sign of Prudence looking out at me through white eyes.
So where was the antsy ghost?
Maybe she’d worn herself out with all of that pacing and was up taking a nap. Did ghosts need to rest? According to Cornelius, they were energy based, so I would think they’d need to recharge their battery somehow.
In the past, temporary possession often drained Prudence. But she was constantly working to grow stronger in spite of her ectoplasmic nature. There might come a day when Prudence figured out how to recharge by draining the “possess-ee.” Or would that be the “possessed”? I shrugged. All of this parasitic talk made me think of the Nachzehrer, which made me feel growly about wasting time here with Prudence when I could be out hunting those long-limbed bastards.
“Here you go, Violet,” Zelda said, holding out several napkins toward me.
My face warmed. The stupid honeybuns mess wasn’t my fault! “Thank you.”
“Oh!” Zelda reached in her sweater pocket, retrieving a piece of paper. “And here is the list Prudence wanted me to give to you.” With a touch of a cringe, Zelda held out the paper for me to take. “It’s why she wanted me to call.”
I stared at the paper for a moment before reaching out to take it. Accepting a list from Prudence felt like giving in to her pushiness, an act that I did not want to become habit.
Zelda took one of the plates loaded with a golden brown dumpling coated in caramel sauce and handed it to Doc. Steam rose from the mound of heaven. My tongue danced behind my teeth, curling in delight.
But first, Prudence’s list …
I recognized Zelda’s writing from when she and Zeke had purchased the very house we were sitting in with my help. Her vowels were extra chubby and her overall cursive was quite flowery, like the daisies she and I both loved. This list had been written while Zelda was in control, so Prudence must have only dictated it to her.
Where in the hell was Prudence? I looked up and searched the room again, ending with Zelda, who had grabbed a dessert plate for herself and was settling back against the sofa. She nibbled on a small spoonful of caramel. If the dead Executioner was whispering in Zelda’s ear at this very moment, our hostess certainly wasn’t acting like it.
“What’s on the paper?” Doc asked as he dug into his dumpling, blowing on the steaming spoonful.
“It’s a list,” I told him and reached for the plate closest to me. “The first word is ‘Imp.’ ”
As my fingers touched the edge of the dessert plate, it slid a couple of inches away.
I frowned at my hand.
And then down at the plate.
And then at Doc.
He held his spoon in front of his face, his lips frozen mid-blow. His gaze narrowed, bouncing back and forth between me and the plate.
Had I bumped the rim without realizing it? I leaned farther, my fingers extended.
The plate slid away from me again, stopping just out of reach.
Doc lowered his spoon, aiming a raised eyebrow at Zelda. “Prudence has a new game, it appears.”
She nodded, swallowing her mouthful. “She’s been practicing moving things around the house. This morning, I woke up with my cell phone balanced on my forehead. That’s when she insisted I call Violet.”
So, I wasn’t the only one being badgered by a ghost. Poor Zelda couldn’t escape from her.
“Tell Prudence that I have office hours she needs to abide by, just like everyone else.” Especially on mornings when Doc wasn’t going into work. I didn’t get many chances to have him all to myself, thanks to the two often-curious kids down the hall.
I shifted to the front of the chair, reaching for the plate.
Prudence slid it to the other end of the coffee table. It would’ve fallen off the edge if Zelda hadn’t caught it.
Zelda pointed her spoon at me. “Prudence says that you need to read that list before you are allowed to eat.”
“You’re kidding.” I half-laughed as I said it.
“Not at all.” Zelda collected another spoonful of apples and pastry. “She’s still a bit perturbed at you not answering your phone the second time I called, which was m
ade at a more respectable hour, and insists you read her list and take some time to consider the ramifications of your impertinence.”
“That’s quite a mouthful,” Doc told her.
Zelda chuckled. “So is this.” She deposited the spoonful in her mouth and smiled at him through closed lips as she chewed.
“You should get to reading, Killer.” A teasing grin hovered on Doc’s lips. He pointed his spoon at the pile of apple goodness on his plate. “This is really good.”
“Thank you.” Zelda licked some caramel sauce off her spoon. “It’s my grandmother’s recipe. Zeke likes it with ice cream, but I think it overpowers the apples too much.”
I huffed at their getting to eat while I was being punished. “Fine. I’ll read her damned list.”
“Prudence said to curb your profanity, Violet. She finds your vulgarity offensive.” Zelda raised her hands in a what-are-you-gonna-do-with-such-a-prissy-ghost gesture.
My hands tightened into fists, crushing her list. “Oh, I’ll give Prudence something to feel offended about if she doesn’t—”
Something pulled my hair. Hard. Yanking my head back even. “Son of a— Ouch!”
Zelda spooned up another bite of caramelly dumpling. “Prudence! Really now,” she chastised. “You don’t like it when Violet calls you names, so I don’t think you should pick on her in return.”
I smoothed my hair, rubbing that spot where the haughty old haint had pulled. “She needs to fight fair,” I grumbled. “Being invisible gives her a leg up.”
Zelda tipped her head slightly, staring upward. “She says that you would lose in a fair fight with her, even if she had both hands tied behind her back.” She sighed and shook her head. “Please just read the list, Violet. I don’t like it when you two fight.”
I wasn’t Prudence’s bitch, damn it. But fine! Whatever. I would read the stupid list, but only because Zelda asked nicely and made me feel guilty for being stubborn. I lifted the paper, cleared my throat, and read aloud:
Imp
Duzarx
Caper-sus
Draug
Fhain-Hai
White Grizzly
Guardian Knave
I lowered the paper. “What is this? Prudence’s Christmas wish list?”
Zelda set her empty plate on the coffee table. “She says it’s an adversary list.” She licked her spoon clean and placed it on her plate. “And that they are written in the order that you should hunt them.”
“Oh, really.” I let the crinkled paper drift to the floor.
I was getting tired of this shit.
Tired of superior-acting assholes telling me what to do.
Tired of sharp-fanged motherfuckers jumping out from shadows at me.
Tired of being backed into corners and having to come out swinging or risk never seeing another sunrise again.
“Violet,” Doc warned, setting down his half-empty plate. “Don’t.” He picked up the list, scanning the page.
Who in the hell did Prudence think she was? Sure, I wasn’t the slickest Executioner, but at least I was out there, and as of this moment I was the only Executioner in town. Never mind that I had to try to balance this killing bullshit with a somewhat normal life while attempting to raise two children and keep food on the table.
I stood. “Tell Prudence that she’s not the boss of me.”
Zelda cringed. “Prudence says that you are being juvenile.”
I walked to the other side of the coffee table, snatching up the plate with my dessert, and then returned to my chair.
“Tell Prudence that when I want her opinion, I’ll rattle her attic chains.” I picked up a spoon and buried it in the no-longer-steaming dumpling. “And please remind her that she is a dead Executioner while I’m still living. Therefore, it is up to me who gets axed first, not her.”
I scooped out a mound of caramel-coated pastry. As I lifted the spoon to my mouth, the blob of food on the end went flying, splatting on the coffee table.
I glared up at the ceiling. “That’s real mature, Prudence.”
Doc placed the list on the coffee table. “Violet, why don’t you explain to Prudence what you’ve been dealing with for the last couple of days.”
“I will if she lets me eat in peace.”
I looked at Zelda, waiting to see if loading up another spoonful would be a waste.
“Prudence says you may make your case.”
Make my case? That was rich. So, now she was not only trying to boss me around, but playing judge and jury, too.
Breathe, Doc mouthed.
I tried, but the burning fireball of anger expanding in my chest made it tough to take in a lungful of air. “I’ve killed two Nachzehrer over the same amount of days,” I said, stabbing my dumpling repeatedly with my spoon, breaking it into tiny bits. “And we’re fairly certain there is at least one more waiting for me out under the trees somewhere.” I opted out of telling her about the banshee, who was safely locked away in that jail room for now.
Zelda rested her head against the sofa. “Prudence says that if this is true, there must also be a hunter leading the pack.”
“I know. I’m going to have to kill the other Nachzehrer and then use some sort of trap to lure and catch the hunter.”
After another pause, Zelda turned to me with a lined brow. “She says you are not seeing this clearly. That you do not need a trap. It is very likely that the Nachzehrer are being used to lead the hunter to you.”
“Like a military probe,” Doc said, scowling. “Searching the area and gathering information.”
“Yes,” Zelda said. “Prudence adds that they are likely studying your ways, testing your strengths, and learning your scent.”
They’d certainly locked in on the smell of my blood.
“Prudence wants to know what makes you so certain they are truly Nachzehrer and not some other foe.”
I relayed the pertinent events over the last few days in quick form, starting with the break-in at the taxidermy shop, mentioning Masterson’s assessment and advice, and ending with the two kills I’d already made. I didn’t mention that I had help during the executions. That would only give the snooty ghost more ammunition for her next attack on my character.
Zelda laced her fingers together after I’d finished. “Prudence believes you are making a grave mistake in trusting Masterson. She says you seem to be forgetting that he was the keeper of the lidérc that would have destroyed you if she hadn’t stepped in to help.”
Of course she would bring that up and take all of the credit for pulling me out of that mess. “Masterson wasn’t behind that attack. He was merely keeping the lidérc as a pet. But then one of his enemies freed it, so he hired me to catch it for him.”
“She believes you’re being naïve. A lidérc is not kept as a pet for pleasure. It is a deadly weapon. Masterson likely has plans of releasing the devil on an unsuspecting foe—maybe even you.”
“Well, whether or not that is true we will never know.”
“Why is that?”
“Because I executed the lidérc.”
Zelda’s eyes widened. “She wants to know how you can be sure it is truly gone? You have made mistakes in the past.”
Before I could tell Prudence to kiss my ass, Doc spoke up. “It’s gone. I was there when Violet destroyed it.”
Zelda looked from Doc to me. “She wants to know what Masterson’s reaction was to you executing his pet.”
“I don’t think he’s figured out yet that it’s no longer caged in the Sugarloaf Building.”
“You killed it behind his back?”
“Yes.” I loaded another spoonful of apple dumpling. “I decided keeping it around was too big of a risk based on the threat it posed to my family. So, Doc and I took care of it for good.” No need to mention anyone else’s roles in this in case something was leaked to Dominick somewhere along the line.
I lifted the spoon toward my mouth, pausing to add, “So, you see, Prudence, I’m not the fuckup that you think I am.
”
The whole spoon was ripped from my fingers this time. It went flying toward the window, clattering to the floor beyond the shag carpet. Apple and pastry globs splattered across the wooden floor and on to the sheer white curtains.
“Dammit, Prudence!”
Zelda gave me an apologetic frown. “She says she warned you not to use obscenities.”
I set the plate on the coffee table. “She needs to dial down her sensitivity meter about a thousand notches.” I strode over to the mess. When I bent to grab the spoon, it slid out of my reach.
I stood up and growled at the ceiling. That was it! Game over. I didn’t have the patience to put up with Prudence’s bullshit any more today.
“Zelda, you’ll have to pick that up for me. I’m sorry about the mess.” I turned to Doc. “I’ll wait for you in the car. If you’d like to stay and visit more with Zelda and that invisible horse’s ass who needs a lesson on communication and teamwork, by all means, have at it.”
“Violet,” he said, standing.
I strode past him, grabbed my coat from the rack, and opened the front door.
Only the door wouldn’t actually open, no matter how hard I gripped and tugged on the handle.
I checked the deadbolt. Not locked.
I tried again, but the door still wouldn’t budge.
“Open the fucking door, Prudence!” I yelled, levering my foot against the wall while I yanked.
“YOU WILL LISTEN TO ME, SCHARFRICHTER!” A voice screeched behind me.
I turned, cursing under my breath, and faced off with the whites of Zelda’s eyes. “You will treat me with respect!” I yelled back.
She rushed toward me with Zelda’s arms outstretched, fingers grasping. Zelda’s body moved all wrong, staggering, lurching, looking like a cast member from Night of the Living Dead. But her intent was clear—she was aiming for my throat.
“Prudence! No!” I dodged Zelda’s hands, body slamming the smaller woman into the wall next to the door hard enough to rattle the sconces.
Zelda gasped for breath.
“Shit. I’m sorry, Zelda.” I pulled back to make sure I hadn’t hurt the petite woman.
Zelda snarled and reached for my throat again.
I scrambled backward while knocking her hands away, and stumbled toward the living room to escape. But Zelda snagged my shoulder and yanked me backward with a force that lifted my boots off the floor. I crashed into her, knocking her down, squashing the poor thing under my weight. Before I could roll free of her, Zelda’s arm snaked around my neck.